


Cruise Control

by bench



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bulges and Nooks, Hand Jobs, IN SPACE!, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 01:20:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5438219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bench/pseuds/bench
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rich twins Dave and Dirk seduce space security guard Karkat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cruise Control

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cahoots](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cahoots/gifts).



Trying to exude an aura of disapproval and suspicion, you glare out at the audience from your position off to the side of the main stage. In the almost two years you have been working on the _Emerald Star_ , you have heard the cruise director gives her spiel more times than you care to count. Fortunately, you aren't here to listen. It's your job to stand looking intimidating and nod when she points you out, not to actually pay attention to what she says. Instead you survey the audience. This is the only time you're going to see them all gathered together anyway, and therefore a good opportunity to scope out any troublemakers.

 

The crowd seems to be the same awful collection of obscenely rich, entitled assholes that usually find their way onto the _Emerald Star_. The cruise liner is a ship that serves almost entirely to humans. This isn't an intentional segregation of species, it just tends to happens. Trolls and humans usually make each other feel just uncomfortable enough that enclosed spaces like the _Emerald Star_ tend to fall to one side of the other over time. That is why you are here. Not on the ship, but on the stage. Most of the security staff is human so they won't stand out as much. The six trolls on security exist to be seen and, just a bit, feared.

 

"Our security staff," says the cruise director, Rebecca - you stand a little more upright, your cue startling you out of your reverie - "are present to keep you safe and secure for the duration of our voyage. If you have any trouble here on the _Emerald Star_ , please find the nearest uniformed security member and they will see that you are taken care of." You deepen your glower and bare your teeth as the audience's attention turns to you.

 

"The goal isn't to protect them, really," Rebecca had explained to you the day you replaced Sigfri, who was apparently a little _too_ intimidating, as 'troll who stands on the stage'. "It's to keep them from causing trouble. The ship's defenses do the real protecting. Not that you need them in the parts of space we're traveling through," she'd scoffed.

 

As Rebecca moves on to a summary of the pool, hot tub, and sauna rules, you let your face settle back into its default sullen expression and continue to survey the crowd. There's no one in particular who strikes you as the trouble causing type, at least not any more than normal. Part of the reason a tour on the _Emerald Star_ is so expensive is because the ship is run with a certain amount of casual destruction built into the fee.

 

While you aren't seeing any obvious troublemakers, you do catch something else. There are two almost identical humans who keep shooting glances at you, nudging each other, and murmuring. You are used to being stared at as one of just a few trolls on a ship full of hundreds of humans, but this is different. Their gaze isn't cautious or hate-filled like most of the humans who watch you. It seems more… interested. Maybe a little scheming. These might be the trouble makers you were looking for. You promise to yourself that you will keep a close eye on them.

 

\----------

 

The two biggest parties of the three week intergalactic cruise occur on the first and the last night. The first night party is by far the worse of the two, what with a ship full of excited guests who haven't had a chance to wear themselves out yet. The club situated in the fore of the ship almost overflows with spectacularly drunk patrons and the terrible music they prefer. You stand at your position outside the VIP area and just hope that someone will try something so that you will have an excuse to haul them away and take a break. There is nothing more painful than being the one sober person in a room full of the trashy.

 

What you get instead of an altercation, is a shot delivered to you on a silver tray by a put upon-looking server. "I told them that you couldn't drink on duty, but they insisted," she explains, shooting a glare back towards the bar.

 

You raise an eyebrow. What she said isn't strictly true. You are tacitly allowed to sneak a drink or three on the job as long as it doesn't impair your judgement and as long as you don't take advantage of the privilege. Management is good enough to understand how obnoxious working the club floor could be. What _isn't_ allowed is accepting drinks from guests. It sets a bad precedent, and once one passenger buys something for the crew it had a tendency to become a free for all. The fact that the server had actually given in and brought you the shot when she was expressly forbidden from doing so is interesting and a little alarming.

 

"Which one of these stubborn, entitled douchebags sent it," you ask, eyeing the crowd around the bar.

  
"You can't see them from here," she replies, almost yelling over the din of the music.

 

"Oh, well in _that_ case," you take the shot and toss it back. "Wow, that's the good stuff."

 

"Top shelf," she agrees.

 

"Fantastic. Tell them I dumped it out or something."

 

She chuckles. "You got it."

 

"How did they get you to," you gesture between the two of you and the bar.

 

"They gave me five hundred dollars. Cash." She looks just as astonished by this as you feel. It's a lot, even for the kind of money that usually finds its way onto the _Emerald Star_. Most guests charge their bills to their rooms. Having that much cash on hand at the club is very unusual.

 

"Huh," is all you really have to say to that. "Spend it on something nice, will you?"

 

"Will do," she laughs, heading back to the bar.

 

You settle back into doing your job, finding it a bit more tolerable with the whiskey sitting warm in your stomach. An endless stream of guests wander in and out of the elevated platform that makes up the VIP area, waving their wrists at you as they sway by. The _Emerald Star_ is too nice for wristbands, but you still need a way of telling the passengers apart. Instead of wristbands, VIPs are given a choice of gleaming bracelets that they must have on display to have access to the VIP parts of the vessel. To your surprise, the twins you had scouted out earlier seemed to be in possession of them. You scowl as they approach you. Trouble.

 

Between the flashing lights and the dark you still see no better way of telling them apart other than the hair and the god awful sunglasses. Your impression of them sinks even lower. Mentally, you dub them Smooth and Spiky and ready yourself for something really annoying. The twin smirks on their faces give them away.

 

"Hey mister security guard," Smooth drawls at you, holding his braceleted arm out towards you. "How do I look?"

 

Instead of replying to his inanity, you growl "Go on up."

 

"What, you don't need to, you know, scan it?" he asks, waving his arm so that the bracelet jingles.

 

"If you had been listening in orientation this morning," you sneer, "you would know that the bracelet is all the ID I need."

 

"Yeah Dave," Spiky says, elbowing him in the ribs. "Pay some fucking attention!"

 

Smooth - Dave, apparently - elbows back. "Shut the fuck up, Dirk, it's not like you were listening either."

 

"Just go the hell upstairs," you snap. "You're holding up the line!"

 

With an eye roll you can somehow sense despite his terrible sunglasses, Dirk grabs Dave's arm and hauls him away.

 

 _Wait a minute_ , you think to yourself as you eye the bracelets on the passengers waiting behind Dave and Dirk, _was he trying to hit on me?_ Then you have to apologize as you laugh in the face of the next passenger coming down the steps. Well that's a first.

 

\------------

 

You trained yourself early on in your time on the _Emerald Star_ not to notice the passengers in any capacity other than work. Never before has anyone made keeping that mindset as difficult as Dave and Dirk have. You can't walk two feet without tripping over them.

 

They are there when the _Emerald Star's_ glamorous casino opens late the following afternoon, once again flashing their bracelets on the way into the VIP lounge, but not before stopping for a chat. They make the kind of small talk that doesn't come close to crossing any boundaries, but which no other passengers, who for the most part see the human staff as moving furniture and the trolls as even worse, have ever bothered to find out. They ask how long you have been working, if you like it on the Emerald Star, if there is anything they should know about the cruise ("insider information, you know?") In turn you learn a little about them. Twin brothers, here because a cruise is the only way their mother thought they could see the universe without stumbling upon danger every other step. You learn that Dave is intent on photographing every moment of the trip, while Dirk has to be torn away from any new piece of technology he comes across.

 

You hate to admit it, but it's nice. The problem is that while they pay attention to you, you can't help but pay attention to them. The way they circle around any room they enter making snide comments that you just wish you could hear instead of being stuck out of earshot manning the entryway, the way they lean into each other's space with an easy familiarity you can't help but envy, the way they fill out their perfectly-tailored pants… it's no damn good. You force your attention back to your job, keeping an eye on the room.

 

They’re at the club again later that night, both of them red faced with drink and dance, supporting each other as they stagger up the stairs to the VIP lounge. They don't try to make conversation, but they both apologize for being a little sloppy as they stumble by and you feel a little pathetic for how much you appreciate it.

 

A week passes, every day filled with endless entertainment for the passengers of the _Emerald Star_. There are magic shows, musical acts, excursions off the ship most days with fully serviced guided tours. You are there through it all, checking room keys for excursions and watching out for VIP bracelets. For every event, Dave and Dirk are there with a quip or a kind word.

 

Against your will, you begin to look forward to seeing them. It’s not like no one talks to you on a daily basis, you know the crew of the _Emerald Star_ well, the other trolls on staff in particular. It’s just that they are so different from the other passengers. The people the Emerald Star caters to tend to care more about their money and their status more than anything. It's different for Dave and Dirk. In fact, as far as you can tell, the only things they care about are laughing at the people around them and, to a lesser degree, having a good time. If they take anything seriously at all, you have yet to see evidence of it. It's… refreshing. Charming even.

 

It's early in the second week of the cruise that things with Dave and Dirk change. The _Emerald Star_ is docked for the day on some backwater planet you have never bothered remembering the name of ,known for its magnificent and sprawling canyons. There is no formal tour on this excursion, just a small herd of bored guides waiting for passengers to disembark and begin puttering around, taking in the sights. That leaves you stranded at the gangway all day making sure that all the guests are registered both entering and leaving the ship. Sometimes you feel like a glorified babysitter.

 

Dave and Dirk had disembarked early, Dave with a complicated-looking camera around his neck and a heavy bag dragging one shoulder down. Dirk had looked indulgent and carried a hand held console you didn't recognize. He is the one who chats with you while Dave interrogates the guides, questions interspersed with sharp gestures at a sheaf of papers in his hands.

 

"I'm almost afraid to ask," you say nodding at Dave with the strong implication that what you are really doing is asking.

 

Dirk shrugs. "Dave like taking pictures." You roll your eyes and nod at him to elaborate. "There are a few things that he just has to see for himself."

 

"So he's actually heard of this place?" you ask, surprised. Backwater doesn't even begin to cover it, really.

 

"Are you kidding?" he scoffs, "Pictures and albums taken here have won major photography awards 'eight of the last ten years'," he says in a tone that is a touch mocking.

 

"Well knock me over with a- um, I had no idea," you reply. Dirk looks like he is about to say something snide, but before he can, Dave calls him away.

 

"Have fun," you say to his retreating back and he waves over his shoulder.

 

A few hours later, you decide that they must have had way too much fun, which is rapidly becoming no fun at all. You don't think you've ever seen two people move as fast as they are as they sprint back towards the _Emerald Star_. Half a dozen angry-looking denizens of the planet are chasing after them and, with their longer, multi-jointed legs, are gaining with every step. For a moment you are frozen with indecision wondering if you should lock down the ship and leave Dave and Dirk to fend for themselves, or if your duty for them trumps self-preservation. Before you can make the decision, they skid up the ramp and slip around you through the door. You dart inside after them and slam the 'engage air lock' panel.

 

You whirl around to face them, anger that they would put everyone on the _Emerald Star_ in danger for what you assume is a stupid stunt making your head pound. "What the bulge blistering, grub fucking, empress loving fuck did you two sorry excuses for shitstains get yourselves into," you shout. The blast doors between you and the natives are too thick to allow for any noise to make it through, but you imagine that you can hear them pounding on it to get in.

 

There is a beat while they stare at you. You try to keep the angry yelling to a minimum for the sake of your job. Despite their sprint, neither Dave nor Dirk are winded. Dirk, however, is very red in the face.

 

"It turns out," Dave replies sourly, "that when they say 'stay on the marked path' they are not fucking around."

 

You gape at him. "Were you not there when the entire fucking staff went on and on and on about how those signs should be taken as the bastard child of your human gospel and intergalactic law??" you yell.

 

"Obviously not," he snaps.

 

"And what the shitfucking hell is wrong with him? Do I need to drag his sorry ass to the medical bay?" you shout, gesturing at Dirk, who is now not only red, but half hunched over with his arms wrapped around his waist.

 

Dave shoots his brother a poisonous look. "He's trying not to-"

 

He is interrupted by a torrent of uncontrollable, body quaking laughter that sends Dirk to his knees.

 

"-laugh." Dave concludes, not amused in the least.

 

It is the most emotion you have seen out of either of them and you feel a little warm in the face as you take him in, gasping on his knees on the floor. You divert that train of thought as quickly as it arrived.

 

"I warned you bro," Dirk gasps out between gales of laughter, "I warned you about the signs!"

 

Dave sags back against the wall pouting. "You're sleeping on the couch tonight."

 

"Totally worth it," Dirk replies, hauling himself back to his feet, visibly reigning in his laughter. "Hey," he continues, facing you. "Thanks for shutting it down. I think they were ready to draw and quarter us."

 

"Whatever you do, don't tell me what that means," you snap. "And you're welcome, this is only my ongoing livelihood."

 

"You would have been totally justified in locking us out there," Dirk reasons.

 

You grumble a bit.

 

"Hey!" Dave says, pout falling off his face as he pushes off the wall. "Let us buy you a drink or something. As thanks."

 

"I can't accept-"

 

"Yeah, yeah," Dave interrupts, waving a dismissive hand. "We heard. But you must have time off sometimes. Come on. Let us treat you a little. You did just save us both."

 

You bite your lip. You really, really should do this because they are guests and guests and staff aren't supposed to be all chummy, but they are so interesting and just _cute_. "I have the whole afternoon and evening off day after tomorrow," you admit begrudgingly. "I'll meet you in the blue lounge." They both look shocked but pleased that you agreed to meet with them. "Now get the fuck out of here, I have some literal feathers to un-ruffle."

 

\-------------

 

Two days later you curl into a couch in the blue lounge, sipping the most absurd, fishbowl sized cocktail you could coerce the bartender into crafting for you.

 

You're nervous.

 

It's stupid.

 

The thing is, while Dave and Dirk hadn't acted any different towards you in the last two days than they had before you agreed to meet with them on your off time, you sure as hell had. If you thought you were noticing them more than you should notice guests before, you had another thing coming. Once you finally admitted to yourself that you wanted to be closer to them then you maybe should, you couldn't turn it off. Every time they walked into a room you were standing guard over you couldn't stop noticing that they are fuck-you attractive, funny in a charmingly nonsensical way, and carefully distant from everyone but each other and, apparently, you. It was a short wait, but it got you wanting so bad it made your head spin. You wanted a piece of that easy intimacy with an intensity that freaked you out. Thus the drink.

 

Dave and Dirk arrive just as you are slurping up the dregs of your blended abomination with the requisite curly straw. They freeze just outside the alcove you had claimed for yourself looking surprised that you had actually shown up. Or maybe that was surprise at the three enormous glasses sitting on the table in front of your chosen couch. You arrived early! Who the fuck are they to judge! It didn't stop them from looking at you with just a hint of hunger.

 

"Take a seat," you say, gesturing at the expanse of the massive sofa.

 

"Actually," Dave says, then stalls, looking at Dirk a bit panicked.

 

"Actually," Dirk picks up, "we were wondering if you would be interested in coming up to our room and sharing a bottle of champagne. We could play cards or some shit."

 

Or some shit. You almost scoff out loud. You would have had to be blind to miss the way they were checking you out. You know what they want, and this is the last chance you are going to get to decide how you want to feel about that.

 

What you feel is, after much careful introspection buoyed by a certain amount of liquid courage, positive.

 

You lever yourself upright. "Lead on, nookwipes."

 

The VIP suites are separated from those of the less exclusive guests and feature their own set of chronically underutilized elevators. This time of day, your boys have evidently concluded that there is little risk of anyone calling the one you find yourselves in. The instant the doors slide closed they are in your space, not trying anything yet, but closer than they have been before.

 

"So, have you ever been to the VIP rooms before?" Dave asks and you roll your eyes because of course, they know how long you have been working here.

 

"Is all your awkward small talk this awful?" you ask, because being sarcastic is better than being nervous. "Or am I just special like that." Dave and Dirk both look at you and for a moment you wonder if you ruined it like the dumb idiot you are, but then they both laugh.

 

"It is," Dirk chuckles, "it all really is."

 

Dave actually sticks his tongue out at his brother. "We can't all be a _master of seduction_ like you are, asshole." You can actually hear the air quotes and it is your turn to start laughing, the rest of your worry that you were making a mistake draining away. They are adorable and hilarious and sometimes you _can_ have nice things.

 

That decided, you grab a handful of the front of Dave's too-nice button down and haul him close. "You're ridiculous."

 

"Yeah," he agrees, and presses his lips to yours.

 

You let him push you against the wall of elevator, sucking on his tongue and scraping his lower lip with your teeth. As you shift your arms from clutching his shirt to using his hips as a fulcrum to pull him closer, you feel Dirk pressed against his back. You feel a moment of jealousy that _you_ aren't the one pressed between _them_ , but as quickly as it arrived, it is gone. If the looks they have been sending your way are any indication, you will be there soon enough. And the feeling of Dave arching between your mouth and whatever Dirk is doing behind him is wonderful all on its own.

 

The elevator chimes as it arrives at the floor Dirk selected while you were playing with Dave. Instead of making your way out of the elevator like you expected, both Dave and Dirk seem inclined to debauch you right there. You let this go on for a long moment because Dave started making suppressed noises against your mouth, then, begrudgingly, you push Dave away.

 

"There is a camera in here," you grit out as Dave attempts to insinuate one of his knees in between yours.

 

Dave doesn't seem to hear you, but Dirk does. With a jolt he pulls Dave off of you by the belt loops. When Dave whines, he hisses, "don't you think this will be so much better on that crazy huge bed they gave us."

 

"Oh," Dave breaths, and pivots towards the door. He slams the open door button while Dirk crowds you back into the wall. You tilt your face towards his, but instead of trying anything he asks, "are we cool?"

 

"If by cool you mean burning an enthusiastic hole through the crotch of my pants through sheer burning desire, than yes, we are very, very cool." you reply, wrapping one hand around the back of his neck.

 

"Awesome, if we do anything you aren't into just holler," he says, stepping back so quickly that you nearly fall over. You are ready to protest at volume, but the elevator door is open again and Dirk grabs your arm to drag you out of it.

 

The distance between their suite and the elevator is blissfully short. There is a brief moment of awkward waiting while Dave fumbles with the key card, but instead of using that time to doubt yourself and this little adventure as you were afraid you would, you use it to admire his ass the way you hadn't allowed yourself this entire trip. You wonder if he wears them a size too small just so losers like you will be forever checking him out.

 

Dirk, from what you have seen, keeps his assets more subtle. Confined to a lingering glance here and a clever word there. In its own way, his technique was just as effective as catching your attention as Dave's well-crafted good looks. You wonder what other differences between the two of them you will learn over the course of the evening.

 

When Dave is finally able to work the door open, your journey from the doorway to the bed is a blur of discarded clothing and teasing touches. In your experience, getting undressed is high on the list of awkward parts of a sexual interaction. Somehow Dave and dirk manage to make the process smooth. Dave loses his shirt as Dirk pulls you against his chest to work on the buttons of your uniform shirt. As you are nuzzling back against Dirk's neck, Dave, now shirtless, grabs you by the belt loops, pressing his mouth against yours again and allowing Dirk to pull away. A moment later, Dirk returns, slipping his hands up the back of your shirt and easing it off between kisses. Your bulge is all about their ministrations and your nook is probably staining your briefs. It's not just that you haven't gotten much since you took the job on the _Emerald Star_ surrounded by only coworkers and guests, although that is part of it. But mostly it's that they are really, really hot. You feel overwhelmed by their attention. There isn't a moment that goes by where you aren't getting the full focus of at least one of the twins. It leaves you feeling breathless and shaky and so, so wanted, so wanting. When Dirk, stripped to his minimalistic briefs, pushes a hand against the center of your chest and shoves, you let yourself fall.

 

You land on the bed with a bounce, and Dirk is on top of you an instant later, fingers lacing with yours and knees caging your hips. For a moment he stares at you like you are a puzzle he is hungry to solve, then, for the first time, he presses his lips to yours.

 

You want to categorize difference between him and his brother, you want to savor the moment. Instead you wrap your arms around him, trying to pull him closer, and you stop thinking all together in favor of losing yourself in the heat of it.

 

"Hey, let me have a turn," you hear Dave say from far, far away. To your dismay Dirk obeys, sitting back.

 

"You had plenty of turn before," you say, breathless, but are ignored.

 

Dave and Dirk hold a whispered conference too quiet for you to hear and you don't really care. Instead you content yourself with lying flat on the oh-so-comfortable mattress and letting your anticipation build. A minute or two later, the bed shifts with the weight of both men climbing across the mattress. With whispered words of encouragement and pressing hands, they shift you until you are laying properly across the bed.

 

"I am perfectly capable of moving myself," you grumble as your allow yourself to be moved. Dave snickers and you kick him in retaliation.

 

"I need those legs for later," he protests, straddling your hips and grinding his ass against your bulge. You try to reply, but only nonsense comes out. This time they both chuckle.

 

"Are we going to sit here playing the 'make fun of Karkat game,' or are we going to- oh," you say, as Dave yanks your briefs down and moves in to take a very close look at what he uncovers. Without thinking your hands slip down to lace into his hair and urge him on, because his mouth is _right there_ , but from where he is sitting just above you Dirk grabs one of your wrists in either hand and pulls them up until they are above your head, then slides his folded legs under your head in a move too easy to be believed.

 

"Nookfucking hell," you breathe as the sensation of being held collides with your new view of Dave wrapping a hand around the base and his mouth around the tip of your bulge. He has experience with a troll, you think to yourself, as your hips try to buck up into the heat of his mouth. He holds you down with his free hand and takes more of your bulge into his mouth.

 

The feeling of being trapped between his hand on your hip and Dirk capturing your arms has you half out of your mind with wanting. You want to thrust into Dave, you want to pull Dirk down to kiss you, you want one of them pushing into you while you push into the other, but it is all fantasy while you are trapped by their hands.

 

"Later," Dirk whispers, "Later."

 

Oh you said all of that out loud.

 

For a moment, Dave pulls off of you. "I want you in me so bad," he breathes and he swallows you down like it's something he wants more than words and the feeling of them holding you, wanting you, planning more for you, everything happening so fast, sends you over the edge before you are really aware that you are approaching it. You cry out, arching up despite their hands on you, and Dave takes it in stride, pulling it back just in time so that you spill all over the duvet.

 

"I'm sorry," you start as soon as you have the breath to speak. "I didn't…"

 

"Shhh, it's fine," Dirk says from behind you, rubbing his fingers over the bruising spots on your wrists where he held you. Dave reaches towards the nightstand where there is a damp washcloth already prepared. He tidies you up, ignoring his own arousal.

 

"Don't you want to…" you trail off, still gasping.

 

"You just lay back, babe," Dirk says, arranging you under a blanket. "Enjoy the show and you can have a taste of your own later."

 

"What do you- oh," you say as Dave and Dirk crash into each other like waves on the shore. It's like watching a well-rehearsed dance the way they move together. Dirk is halfway in Dave's lap, hands working in between them as Dave tugs at his brother's hair to kiss down his neck. You stare, hypnotized as Dave meets your eyes, then bites down on Dirk's shoulder. You think you make a noise. Your mind fills with images of what you want to try. It doesn't take more than a few moments for first Dave, then Dirk, to cry out.

 

After a quick clean up, they join you under your blanket.

 

"We'll go wild later," Dave mumbles, drowsy. "You did say you don't have to work until late tomorrow and we wanted to give you a taste."

 

"Can't wait," you agree as they cuddle up to either side of you. A moment later you drift off to sleep.


End file.
